


Farewell Waltz

by ararelitus



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Confessions, Dancing, M/M, Pining, Prequel, that feelings when youre in love with your bff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:34:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24220645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ararelitus/pseuds/ararelitus
Summary: In a week, James would leave for his expedition. All Francis could see ahead was another goodbye. That was the perilous life of an explorer, or that of loving one. He’s chosen this, after all.
Relationships: Captain Francis Crozier/Sir James Clark Ross
Comments: 23
Kudos: 28





	Farewell Waltz

LONDON, EARLY 1829

Francis stared at  _ Commander _ James Clark Ross sitting beside him at the bar. He had his back to Francis, distracted by some other lieutenants he knew from some place or other. 

Laughter erupted from the group. Francis knocked back the rest of his whisky. 

“We’re going out to celebrate tonight,” James had announced, barging in on Francis’ quarters. “Frank, I’d like you to join me,” he’d said, before dragging Francis across London. 

In a week, James would leave for his expedition. Did Francis resent James for his promotion, for his commission? No, he was happy for him. Still, there was that sinking feeling. All Francis could see ahead was another goodbye. 

That was the perilous life of an explorer, or that of loving one. He’s chosen this, after all. 

These thoughts always came back when he’d been drinking. All those nights on the Arctic ice with James, sharing quarters, tents, sleeping bags. When they’d split into separate parties, Francis couldn’t help but leave him notes. It was only months then, but this would be years, and no letters.

Francis reached for James’ drink. He didn’t need it anyway. 

“Ah, sorry for that interruption, Frank. You have my attention now.” James turned back to him. 

“It’s getting late,” Francis said, “I should be getting back.”

“Nonsense, you can stay with me for the night.”

Francis looked up at him. 

“There’s no one I’d rather be out with tonight, Frank,” James said. He gave Francis a gentle smile. 

Francis sighed. James’ attention was on him now, everything else was hopeless.

~~~

At 2:00 in the morning, they stumbled down the road towards James’ lodgings. 

“You know...” Francis started, his mouth moving before he had the sense to stop it. “I’m going to miss you, James. Terribly. Are you sure you have to go?”

“I’m quite certain, my dear boy.” James leaned in and patted him on the shoulder.

Francis let himself lean in. Only slightly, but enough to feign a stumble if discovered.

Instead, James caught his arm. 

“Careful there.”

“What shall I do when you leave, hm?”

“You will have to live life here for the both of us.”

“Christ James, don’t ask that of me. What if I get asked to dinner? Or worse, have to  _ dance _ ?”

“What’s wrong with dancing?”

“It’s the whole ordeal, the party, the expectations. I… I don’t know how.”

“Oh, Frank... Really?” James stopped and turned to look at him. 

Francis shrugged. 

“I can teach you, you know.”

“Oh, no it’s...”  _ it’s what? _ Francis couldn’t think of a good enough reason to refuse. “Yes. Show me.”

“Of course.” James stopped and pulled Francis into a doorway. He lifted a finger to his lips as he opened the door. 

They crept up the narrow stairs to James’ rooms. James rushed to light a lamp. 

“There we are. Need anything, another drink?” James threw off his coat. 

“No. Think I’ve had enough.” Francis sank down into an armchair. He stared at all the piles of old explorers’ memoirs and books on magnetism that littered James’ small desk.

“Oh no, up you get Frank, I’m going to teach you how to dance.” 

“I… Now?” Francis looked up to see James standing before him in his shirtsleeves, reaching up to loosen his cravat. 

“We have no music, but I think we’ll make do.” 

Francis stood facing him and nodded. He reached his hands towards James. He’d wanted to put his hands on James for so long, but this was complicated. Francis hesitated, arms hanging there in the air between them. 

James took his hands, placing one on his own waist. He held Francis’ other hand gently and took a step forward.

Francis could feel his heart beating in his ears. He’d been close to James before, but this was different, intimate. Francis could feel his breath. 

“I suppose I should show you how to lead,” James whispered. 

“Yes. Yes, of course.” Francis wanted James to lead. 

“Come now, Frank, few can walk the deck of a ship like you, this is nothing.”

“I don't recall much dancing on ships?” Francis laughed. 

“There’s plenty if you think about it. Now, step forward with your left foot”

Francis took a step towards James and he moved back just in time, maintaining the space between them. 

“And out with your right, like this, and then together.”

Francis followed. 

“Now lets try doing that faster. Let your feet lead you where you want to go.”

Francis studied the floor as he moved. He smiled up at James. “I think I might be getting the hang of this.”

“I had no doubts.” James grinned wide as he gazed back. 

Francis stepped on the heel of his boot and stumbled forward, crashing into James’ chest. 

James caught him. “You alright?”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps that’s enough practice for one night. It is late.”

“No,” Francis said. “I mean, no, I can keep going.”

“Very well. Will you let me lead for a moment so you can figure out the steps?”

“Of course.” 

James took him by his hand and shoulder again. Francis let James pull him along. 

“One, two, three, just like that. One, two...”

The steps made sense in Francis’ head, as he followed James. 

James halted them. “Will you give it a try?”

“I don’t know, James, I don’t have a bloody clue what I’m doing.” 

James laughed. “Shall I show you again?”

“Yes. I’ll pay attention this time.”

“You better, or we’ll be here all night.” James smiled as he dropped his arm to Francis’ waist. 

Francis let out a breath. He wished that’s what they’d do, and wondered if he could have this. 

They spun around the small room as James picked up the pace. He grew closer and closer, until Francis’ foot hit James’ and they both staggered to gain their balance. James gripped Francis’ shoulder tight. 

“Sorry James,” Francis mumbled.

“It’s alright. Was surprised you haven’t trampled my feet yet.”

“That little faith in me?”

“You said you didn’t know how to dance, I simply expected the worst. I’ve had the most elegant of ladies do worse to my toes than the Arctic ever could.”

“You and the ladies, of course.” Francis sighed. No, this was not for him to have. 

“Let’s get back to it, shall we?” James took Francis’ hand again.

Francis let him, again. He’d let James guide him anywhere. But what was this dance?

James was so close, it wouldn’t take much for Francis to lift his hand from his shoulder and bury it in his soft curls. Were they as soft as they looked? If James would stop moving for a moment, he could. Would James even mind? 

These thoughts always crept into his mind late at night. This was too close to something, too good of an illusion. 

“Christ, James,” Francis muttered and broke away. 

“Frank, what’s wrong?”

Francis sighed. 

“Tell me.”

“James, dear, you’ll never understand.” Francis raised his hand. It hovered over James’ shoulder before he pulled away. He turned and leaned on the back of the armchair.

James reached over and put his hand over Francis’. Francis only stared at it, at James’ knuckles and the way James’ longer fingers eclipsed his. 

“Perhaps I do,” James whispered. 

Francis was too tired. He gave in, and flipped his hand over to trace his thumb over James’ knuckles. 

“Frank...”

Francis looked up at James and held his gaze. James smiled gently, and his eyes glowed in the candle light. He squeezed Francis’ hand. 

“How did you know?”

“The letters you left me, they made me wonder,” James said, “and the way your eyes follow me in a room. The way you look away as soon as you think I notice. You’re not as subtle as you think you are.”

Francis huffed. “Here I thought no one would read me.” 

“No, of course not. But I know you, Frank.”

“That you do, James.” Francis sighed.

“And you’ve been oblivious, too.”

“Have I?” 

If there was something in James inviting him out, inviting him to dance, or in having no hesitation, Francis just wanted him to say it. 

James reached up as if to cup his face but reconsidered and placed his hand on Francis' shoulder. He sighed loudly and looked away. 

James’ face pained Francis. “You’re too handsome to be like this, James,” he said.

“To be pining after you? Don’t sell yourself short, Francis.”

“You could have anybody-” 

“No.”

“Women, men, I’ve heard how the midshipmen talk about you-”

“Frank.”

“I don’t...”

“Don’t be so stubborn!”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Shh.” James brought his hand up to Francis’ cheek. “I’ll show you,” James said, and leaned in and kissed him. 

Francis closed the distance between them and buried his hand in James’ hair. It was as soft as he’d hoped, winding around his fingers. Still, that wasn’t as satisfying as James moaning against his lips. 

Francis pulled away to take a breath and study James’ face. There was no doubt there, as he gazed back at Francis.

“What does this mean?”

“Tomorrow.” James took Francis’ hand. “For now, it’s late, come to bed.”

Francis didn’t resist. 

~~~

They lay down in bed, with James’ arms around Francis. They’d slept like this before, in the Arctic. 

James pulled him close. pressed his face to Francis' shoulder. 

Francis traced his fingers over James’ arms down to his hands and intertwined their fingers.  _ No, not like this.  _ This wasn’t the Arctic. 

James’ breath was warm on the back of Francis’ neck. This wasn’t Francis’ domain. James knew what he wanted, Francis didn’t. He wondered if he could ever keep up. 

There it was again, that sinking feeling. Francis was in James’ arms, was this not what he wanted? Francis was closer than ever, but only for so long. It was one more thing he’d miss. 

“Why must you leave?” Francis whispered.

“I’ll be back,” James replied.

“You’re awake.” Francis turned to him. 

“Of course.” James propped himself up on one arm and looked back at Francis. 

“I _ will _ be back. I’ll come back to  _ you _ .” James traced his hand along Francis’ chest. “When I return, in two years at most, I’ll be given my own command. And then I’ll take you with me.”

“Two years...”

“I know, Frank. Let’s not think of it now.”

“Yes, alright,” Francis replied, but he couldn’t push the thought away so easily. He was tired now, and warm in James’ arms. Francis focused on that instead, trying to memorize the way James fit against his back. He hoped James might be doing the same, and that it would keep him warm in whatever place he was headed. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Chopin’s Waltz in A-flat major, Op. 69 No. 1, often called “Valse de L'adieu” or ”The Farewell Waltz”. It was not written until 1835, and not published until 1855 (posthumously) but I felt it was /thematic/ and matches the mood of this. 
> 
> Thank you again to the wonderful tulliolaciceronis for betaing!
> 
> For a prompt I got on discord for dancing... I apologize I cannot remember who it was that requested now. 
> 
> Historic basis or lack thereof notes:  
> \- In 1829 JCR left for Sir Felix Booth’s privately funded expedition commanded by John Ross. Ah yes, this is the famous “Fury Beach” expedition. He would spend four winters in the Arctic and was presumed dead by some!! Until they managed to be rescued by the HMS Isabella (a ship that JCR also served on in ‘18 as a middie on his first Arctic expedition, under his uncle)! They spent their time having scurvy, sledging, and eventually building Somerset house. JCR and John Ross argued! Thomas Blanky was also there! That’s all a whole other story.  
> \- Meanwhile, Francis would eventually be sent to patrol the Portuguese coast on HMS Stag in 1831. But I will stop history rambling now  
> I do not know how long they actually intended to be on expedition for so the two years is a guess on my part. I’m also not sure where Crozier was at this point historically, I don’t have a note about it. I chose to just do whatever for the sake of the prompt.  
> \- I /am/ writing a thoroughly researched prequel fic in the near-to-mid future, but this is not that fic!


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